


Song for a Winter's Night

by akisazame



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Community: shirakawablvd, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-14
Updated: 2010-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akisazame/pseuds/akisazame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In December, Ryoji tries to visit Minako secretly.  Minako isn't having any of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song for a Winter's Night

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt from shirakawablvd.](http://community.livejournal.com/shirakawablvd/1014.html?thread=291318#t291318)

A cold gust of wind blew down the street in front of the Iwatodai dorm. Ryoji pulled his signature yellow scarf tighter around his neck, staring quietly up at a familiar third-story window.

He wanted more than anything to go up to the door of the dorm and knock casually, like he would have in the old days. Before everything had gotten complicated with Nyx and the end of the world. But he was fairly certain that his presence was no longer welcome in the place SEES called home. Moreover, the Dark Hour had already come and gone, and all of the building’s residents would more than likely be asleep.

Including the one he wanted to see most.

Ryoji tried to ignore the burning feeling in his chest as he gazed up at her darkened window, tried to forget about the way her hand felt on his, tried to push aside the fact that she might ( _should_ ) be killing him in a matter of days. All that mattered for the moment was how badly he wanted to be near her. Even just this, standing outside her window in the dead of night, was better than being completely alone somewhere else.

A snowflake softly fell on Ryoji’s cheek, followed by another. He looked up at the sky curiously, reaching out a hand into the cold night air. “I suppose it _is_ Christmas Eve, after all,” he said quietly to himself, a hint of a smile on his lips.

There was a subtle movement in the corner of his eye, and Ryoji’s gaze snapped back to Minako’s window. He knew she was asleep -- she _should_ be asleep -- but he couldn’t keep his heart from fluttering hopefully.

Then a light turned on. The curtains parted. Her face appeared. And Ryoji thought his heart would break from how beautiful she was.

Her hair was down -- it was the first time Ryoji had ever seen it that way -- and even from this distance he could make out her blurry-eyed expression. She had obviously been asleep, but something had awoken her, perhaps a noise or a bad dream. He desperately hoped that it wasn’t the latter, because he was practically convinced that any bad dreams she might have were on account of him and what he really was.

He continued watching her as she looked at the blackness of the world outside; her eyes lit up like a child’s when she noticed the few flakes of snow that were falling. Then she looked down to the sidewalk.

Ryoji could swear he felt electricity jolt through him when her piercing red eyes met his. They were both motionless for a few moments, then Minako blinked once, twice, as if she were trying to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

For his part, Ryoji couldn’t make himself react. He couldn’t think of a smooth line to explain away why he was standing in front of the Iwatodai dorm at 1 o’clock in the morning. He wasn’t even sure he could explain it to himself. He just wanted to be near her.

She disappeared from the window so quickly that Ryoji managed to miss the exact moment it had happened; if it wasn’t for the rustling of her curtains and the light left on, he would have sworn he’d imagined the whole thing. His heart sunk anyway; maybe she just didn’t want to see him. He couldn’t exactly blame her if that was the case. He’d been avoiding her, and everyone else, for nearly a month now. Even if she didn’t hate him for what he was, she’d at least have to be mad about being ignored.

The sound of the dorm’s front door opening interrupted his melancholy thoughts. She was still dressed in pajamas, but had put her coat on over them. She even had fluffy slippers on her feet. Even this outfit managed to exemplify the things he loved about her: no hesitation, not even enough to put on a proper pair of shoes. She stepped forward briskly until she was practically toe-to-toe with him, face tilted up to meet his eyes.

She looked angry, of course. He expected that. Standing outside her window at night wasn’t so far removed from what had happened in the hot springs on the Kyoto trip. What he didn’t expect was for her to reach up and hit him on the top of the head, just hard enough to sting a little.

“ _That_ is for standing out here in the cold,” Minako snapped, her voice quiet but clearly annoyed. “I won’t forgive you if you get sick. Now hurry up and get inside.” She abruptly grabbed his hand, turned around, and started marching back towards the dorm.

Ryoji planted his feet firmly on the ground, partly out of surprise and partly out of a stubbornness that rivaled Minako’s. “Is it okay for me to go in there?” No, that wasn’t the right sentiment at all. “I shouldn’t go in there,” he corrected, his voice threatening to catch in his throat; it was no longer a question, but a certainty. It really hadn’t been that long ago, had it? How the world had changed.

She stopped tugging on his arm and turned to give him the most incredulous look he’d ever seen. “So you’d rather stand out in the snow all night?”

All the reasons why he shouldn’t go into the dorm were in the forefront of his mind, dancing on the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t be trusted. He’d lied to everyone. He was the Appriser, the harbinger of the Fall. They were going to ( _should_ ) kill him in a few days. Everything bad that had ever happened to Minako was, in one way or another, his fault. But all of those words crackled and died when he opened his mouth to say them.

Seizing her chance, Minako gave Ryoji’s arm another tug. This time, his knees unbuckled and he followed her through the front door.

He allowed her to lead him to one of the couches in the lounge before finally pulling free of her grip. “I still think this is a bad idea,” he said, keeping his voice as quiet as he could.

“Everyone else is asleep,” Minako said matter-of-factly. She pushed on his shoulders until he sat down, then spun around and headed for the kitchen. “I’m making you some hot tea. Don’t even think about sneaking out. I’ll send Koro-chan after you.”

Even if it was against his better judgement, Ryoji had to admit that the warmth of the Iwatodai dorm was preferable to the cold wind and flurries of snow out on the sidewalk. He looked around the room while he waited for Minako, trying to take in as many things as he could. It would all be gone soon, every bit of it, all the things that made up their everyday lives and defined them as human beings. The more things he looked at -- the sign-in sheet on the counter, Akihiko’s half-mended boxing gloves thrown on a chair, Koromaru’s leash hanging on the doorknob, the meager Christmas tree Fuuka had put up -- the sadder he felt. The more guilty he felt.

It was all dwarfed when she walked back into the room, slippers shuffling on the floor, a steaming cup in her hand. Ryoji felt like he had rocks in his stomach.

“Thank you,” he said softly, taking the cup from her. He held it up to his face and let the steam waft over his cold cheeks, but didn’t take a drink. Instead he just watched her as she sat on the other couch, her hands resting on her knees.

A long silence. Palpable. Unbearable. But where were they supposed to start?

He looked down into the cup just to avoid her piercing gaze. All the things he wanted to say were bubbling up inside of him like a volcano. “Why did you--?” The phrase came from his mouth, but he wasn’t sure what other words were meant to be attached. His grip on the cup tightened, turning his knuckles white. How was it that she was the one person in this world who could make him tongue-tied? “I mean, I didn’t--” Another fragment. Where had it come from? Where did it belong?

All of a sudden, her fingers were brushing over his, a feather’s touch. “It’s okay,” she said, resting her palm on the back of his hand. Even compared to the teacup, her skin felt almost unbearably warm. He let his eyes drift up to her face again, just for a moment. “I’m actually... really glad you’re here.”

Whatever rocks had been in Ryoji’s stomach had migrated into his throat. He opened his mouth to say something -- what, he wasn’t sure, but surely he had to say _something_ \-- but she shook her head and pressed the index finger of her other hand against his lips.

“Just wait, okay?” Minako said, almost impatiently. She paused, turning her head so that she could look into his eyes, then bit the left side of her bottom lip, the way she always did when she was nervous about something. “The thing is, Ryoji-kun,” she began, her voice thick with an emotion he couldn’t identify, “I haven’t been able to sleep very well this past month. And don’t you go blaming yourself, either!” She pressed her finger even harder against his lips, preventing him from interjecting with the apology he yearned to say. “It’s just that I--”

Her voice broke off then, cracking in a way he’d never heard before. She was always so confident, so sure of herself. Now, there were tears welling in her eyes. He couldn’t stand it; this was his breaking point. He put the teacup down on the table almost haphazardly, and it wobbled precariously as he pulled Minako from her seat on the opposite couch and into an embrace. He slid his arms under the coat she’d never bothered to take off, and the warmth of her body felt like it was searing his skin even through the fabric of her pajamas.

She was crying now, sobs shaking her entire body, and all he could think to do was cling to her, one hand spreading itself flat against her back, the other arm curling around her waist. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes as well, but he blinked them away.

_You shouldn’t be here,_ said a bothersome voice in the back of his mind. _You can’t comfort her. It’s your fault she feels this way in the first place._

But her hand was clinging to the front of his shirt; there was no way he could leave without her fighting for it.

Instead, against all the mental protests, he leaned down to gently kiss her forehead.

She looked up at him, red eyes watery and desperate. “I can’t kill you,” she managed to say, swallowing back another sob. The word ‘kill’ sounded hateful and ugly when it came from her lips, instead of the mercy that he knew it would be. “I _won’t._ ”

_But you should._ He wanted to say it, but it stuck in his mouth like a cotton ball. Everything about her in that moment was so horrendously beautiful that he thought he would die of his own accord right on the spot. Every moment he spent with her just increased his sadness sevenfold. She _had to_ kill him, dammit, so that she could finally be happy again, even for a little while. Even if it was all a lie.

He unraveled his arm from her waist and reached up to trail his fingers through her hair. “You still have time to decide.”

The look on her tear-streaked face was a wild mix of emotions that Ryoji couldn’t begin to identify. But there was one emotion that dominated over all the rest, burned like a fire in her eyes: indignation.

And then she lunged forward, quick as a cobra strike, and planted her lips firmly against his. Despite all his bravado, Ryoji had never kissed anyone before, much less _be_ kissed; when you considered that his “life” had only been a few short months thus far, it didn’t seem quite so strange. It was surprise and inexperience that triggered his flight response, but he couldn’t have gotten away even if he had wanted to, with that hand still balled up in his shirt, the other snaking its way up into his hair. He let his eyes drift closed as she leaned further into him, brushing the tip of her tongue over his lips; she tasted the same way she smelled, just a hint of strawberries and bananas.

She pulled away, just their lips parting, and even though she was still right there, Ryoji was filled with a profound sense of loss.

“ _I won’t,_ ” Minako said again, and this time Ryoji knew there was no point in arguing.

\---

By the time they untangled themselves from one another, the tea on the table had gone cold. Ryoji wasn’t certain how much time had passed; only that dawn wasn’t yet breaking, that he still had plenty of time before they would be discovered.

He somehow knew that he didn’t have to say anything; they’d transcended past words, into a state of mutual existence. Suddenly, abruptly, he realized that it was the moments like _this_ that they were fighting for, these beautiful, perfect moments of just _living._ And it wasn’t as though he’d gained some tangible, palpable _thing_ tonight; after he walked out that door, all that he would have left were memories. Of course they didn’t want to lose their memories together. _Of course_ they didn’t want to kill him. It was so obvious now.

But was it really worth the horrible death they would face at the hands of Nyx?

That was a thing he didn’t want to think about. He tried to squelch it immediately, to push it back into the recesses of his mind where all the other dark things dwelled. The things he didn’t ever want her to see, if he could help it. But the image remained, undeterred: Minako at the top of Tartarus, the rest of the world in flaming ruins around her, being slowly torn to shreds by Nyx Herself. He heard her scream inside his head, and it made him want to scream in reality.

No, that wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t let it be an option.

He ran his fingers over her cheek, where the barest traces of her tears remained. “I’ll be back in a few days,” he whispered, his voice catching awkwardly in his throat, like he hadn’t used it in a long time. He thought about saying something else, but decided against it. He didn’t want to argue with her, not now. Cross that bridge when they came to it.

She didn’t try to convince him to stay, despite the pleading look in her eyes. They were pushing the boundaries as it was, had been pushing them ever since she dragged him through the front door. Just because it wasn’t morning yet didn’t mean someone couldn’t wake up. She just nodded, making a soft noise in her throat, then stood up and took a few cautious steps backwards, eyes still fixed on his face.

If he didn’t leave now, he’d never be able to. He simply got up and walked out the door without another word.

None of the snow had stuck, he noted to himself as he trudged down the sidewalk, staring at his feet as they carried him in the entirely wrong direction. Ephemeral and fleeting.

She still had time to change her mind.


End file.
